Successors of the Ancients
by Randomnormality
Summary: Few things you need to know about me. 1) I hate witches. 2) I can grant people second changes. 3) I died when I was eighteen. 4) I'm the successor to the power of a pagan goddess. Did I mention I hate witches. Cas/OC in future chapters...AU Purgatory fic
1. Chapter 1: Tendencies

**Successors of the Ancients**

**Summary:**

My name is Alexandria Caitlin Winslow. I am twenty-seven years old. I own an underground bar in Seattle, Washington. I've been told I'm stubborn, sarcastic and that I have a habit of pissing people off.

Of course, I'm not exactly normal. See, if I was normal, there wouldn't be a story to tell. If I was normal, I would never have become involved with the Winchester brothers. I wouldn't have thrown myself into Purgatory, of all places, to save a previously mis-guided angel. I wouldn't be a target, made out by some wack-job with a power trip. So, before reading, here are some key factors.

1.) I _hate_ witches. Absolutely loathe them.

2.) I can grant intended people a second chance at life.

3.) I died when I was eighteen years old.

4.) I am the Successor to the power of a Pagan Goddess.

Did I mention I hate witches?

**Author's Note:**

Since at the start of this story, there isn't really much information on what is happening to Cas in Purgatory, so I am using creative licencing to come up with my own plot and run with it. The beginning of this story shines a rather bad look on Wiccan beliefs, but that is not really my own opinion, as I believe everyone has their own right to believe in whatever the hell they wish. So, if any Wiccan believers become offended by my insults toward the 'Mother Goddess' please bear in mind that this is a fictional story and as such my original, fictional character kind of has a blunt, straight-forward take-no-nonsence attitude and has a mind of her own. If you are offended by this, I suggest you take whatever flaming response you are going to fling at me and shove it up your ass. You've had a fair warning. Hell, my original character insults _every_ religion. So, no offense to any believers. Don't like, don't read. Flames will receive a big 'Up Your's' and be ignored.

On another note, all of my information is based off of Roman and Greek Mythology, facts taken from Wiki (and my three years of studying Latin as a second language). So bear in mind, my facts are checked out and I've taken some...liberties of changing some things.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural. All of the chapter titles are also Song Titles or Lyrics, which disclaimers will be used at the end of each chapter.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Tendencies  
__'Now it's time to meet your maker, hear the tolling of the bell_

_Fuckin' kill you again when I see you in hell'_

* * *

"Lexi!"

The shout of my name and the hands shaking my form pulls me from my slumber, the visage of deep blue eyes fading into the far reaches of my subconscious as my eyes open. Seeing the frantic gleam in the normally stubborn brown eyes I pull myself upright and shake myself from the incomprehensible images. Quickly looking over the frazzled red-head standing at the side of my bed, I shove out of the bed and race to my closet.

"What's going on?" I demand as I begin to slip my legs into a pair of black jeans.

Melody Blaines, a friend of mine for the past five years, reaches forward and yanks a Ramones t-shirt off of a hanger, "The pub is on fire!"

Pulling the shirt over my tank top, I wrap a knitted scarf around my neck loosely before slipping on my black leather duster jacket. Following after the racing Melody, I stumble as I quickly shove my feet into a pair of untied combat boots and the slamming of the door sounds through the halls of the complex.

Arriving at the slowly dying flames, my heart jumps into my throat at the sight of the charred remains of what had once been my bar. _Caitlin's Pub_ had been underground and hadn't been very popular, but it was a safe haven to my regulars. The shouts and commands of emergency rescue service officers seems muted, distorted as though my head is beneath water. Seeing the remains of _Caitlin's Pub_ lying dismembered on the ground, tension fills my very core at the perfectly intact symbol. They symbol had once resided within the crescent of the 'C' in the pub's name. It acted as a beacon to those who knew what it represented, and it warded off those who misunderstood. It symbolized a new beginning.

"You bitch!" My gaze pulls away from the destruction and a resounding smack echoes in the air, my face snapping off to the side, a sharp sting spreading across my left cheek, "I told her not to hang around you and your freak show bar. I warned her not to get involved with people like you! Now look what happened! I hope you all burn in fucking Hell!"

The distraught, young woman is pulled away from the scene by uniformed officers. Ignoring Melody as she voices her concern, I turn my focus back on the symbol. The large outer ring encasing three 'T' like facets, the facets encasing a small circle at the very symbol. Seeing it untarnished, completely untouched by the flames that destroyed the rest of the establishment, anger slowly rages within my heart.

"I spoke to the EMT's. They said that all of the customers escaped safely and without any injuries," Melody's somber voice pauses briefly, "They said it was because Roger and Amelia stayed behind to make sure everyone made it out safely. They saved everyone."

"Let's go," I say, breaking the several minutes of silence that fell over us, "I'll walk you home."

Giving into the temptation of my need for nicotine, I walk with Melody as we make our way down the street. Arriving at her quaint, studio apartment, I pause on the stoop.

"Lexi," I blink, glancing up at my friend, not realizing I had been standing there for a while, "I'm sorry this had to happen."

"Don't be sorry for me," I murmur gently, giving her a weak smile, "Do me, and my sanity, a favor and...uh..._lock_ up your door and windows. I need to go clear my head."

"Hey, Lexi," I really had only made it a few steps before Melody calls out to me, "You know this isn't your fault. The authorities said it was a leaky gas line."

I grunt, not making any promises, and I continue on my way back to the charred remains of the pub. The emergency vehicles and police cars were gone, leaving the forms of two men standing at what had once been my personal home away from home. Not wanting to attract unwanted attention, I pull my hood up over my head and watch in silence as they the shortest of the two men picks up the perfectly untarnished symbol. Carefully, I step closer, curious as to who they are and what they want.

"I'm telling you, Sam. This has witchy written all over it," the shortest of the two men states to the other, "A leaky gas line would toast everything. This symbol is kind of proof that this happens to be just in our area of expertise."

Hunters. I know Hunters when I hear them. Hell, I'm sure I've been shot at enough to know I should avoid people like them. Instead, I watch as the taller man, Sam, takes the symbol into his own hands.

"Well, you're right about one thing, Dean. I've seen this symbol before. Something witch related, but I can't be sure."

"It's Wiccan," I state curtly, watching as both men tense and whirl around to face me, "It's a symbol of their 'Mother Goddess'."

"Who the hell are you?" the Dean-guy demands, obviously uncomfortable by being caught unaware.

Staring blankly at them, I respond, "Alexandria Winslow. I owned the place." I raise my gloved hands defensively as they tense up, "I'm not a witch, or Wiccan, for that matter. I...studied symbols and ancient runic tiles. The symbol is a representation of new beginnings, a second chance at life."

"I'm sorry for your loss," the tallest of the two, Sam, states sympathetically.

Shaking my head, I look away from the two, "It isn't me that should receive such condolences. Look, I know what you two are, and I know you are going to track down and go after the witches responsible."

"If you're leading up to an offer of your services, we're going to respond with a big no," Dean retorts, his tone serious, despite his sarcastic words.

Seeing the two share a look before turning to walk away, I slip my hands into the pockets of my jacket, "So, you know where the coven is then?"

"Tch. Are you saying you do?" Dean snarks with irritation.

"Twenty-two-oh-four W. Cyprus Drive," I answer without hesitation, the two of them turning to look at me curiously, "After receiving over twenty threatening letters for the past year and a half, I figured it would be in my best interest to know who I'm being threatened by. Know thy enemy and all that shit." The uncertainty in their gazes causes me to take a step toward them, "Look, I'm not going to beg. I was planning on paying them a visit anyway, so whether I go with you or not doesn't bother me. Those bloody witches killed two innocent people."

A moment of traded whispers passes and Dean lets out a groan before pointing to me, "Fine, but if Sam and I tell you to get out, you do your best and follow that order."

Giving him a mocking salute, I follow them to a black '67 Chevy Impala. I may not know much about cars, or the mechanics of one, but I know a beauty when I see it. Sliding into the back seat, I turn my gaze out of the window. My reflection in the window stares back at me and for a split second my reflected green-grey eyes hazes over blue before turning back to their usual color. My leather-coated fingers rub at the bridge of my nose, a sense of discomfort filling me as I realize my dreams are starting to pull to the front of my mind.

"So, Alex-"

"Lexi," I say, correcting Sam.

"Right, Lexi. What did you do to piss off an entire coven of Wiccan witches?" Sam questions.

I snort, mildly amused by his question, "I hope you don't expect me to give you the _entire_ bleeding list of reasons they might have? This isn't my first time dealing with their type, and I'm sure it won't be my last."

"What's with the accent?" Dean asks, changing the subject.

"I spent the first eighteen years of my life in England," I reply easily, before the car comes to a stop.

I follow the guys out of the car and they immediately head to their trunk. Ignoring them as they plan to sneak in, I approach the front door of the two-story house. Paying no mind to Dean's gruff shout of 'Hey!', my hand lands on the door knob seconds before a larger hand grabs onto my wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean hisses.

Giving him a blank stare, I quirk an eyebrow, "They're witches. I don't think they're worried about people breaking and entering."

To prove my theory, I twist the knob and push. Sure enough, the front door opens and I give him a pointed look before stepping into the house. Moving throughout the house, I follow the two down the steps leading to the basement and roll my eyes at the stereotypical location. My eyes slide shut briefly as a familiar hum travels over my nerves and I inwardly smile when I realize these witches really are pathetic.

"Ah, Winslow," a sultry voice greets as we step closer to the single woman sitting in a chair.

Seeing nine other members of this little coven, I level my gaze on the beautiful brunette, "Winters. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I'm sure even _you_ can figure out why I'm here."

"I did give you fair warning. You've ignored every single one," Caroline Winters states, a sadistic grin on her painted lips.

I smirk at the memory of the most recent death threat sent to me, "Not _all _ of them. I thought my recent response was well-deserved."

"You are quite amusing for a human. If you weren't so insulting to our Mother Goddess, I'd offer you a place within my coven," Caroline replies.

"Yeah, that would never happen."

Caroline pushes herself to her feet, her hands flinging out and I watch as Dean and Sam are slammed into the nearest wall, kept there by an invisible force, "Let me guess. You and your two body guards are here to try and kill me?"

"Trust me. It won't take much effort to do so," I snap in response, my gloved hands clenching into fists, "and they aren't body guards. In fact, they make it a business in killing people like you."

"Oh? You sided with a pair of _Hunters_?" she hisses the word as though it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, "As if I have anything to fear from three weak humans."

I smirk, pulling my hands out of my pockets, slowly stripping them off, "Funny thing about that last statement," Curiosity flickers in her eyes as I shove my gloves back into my pockets and splay my hands out in front of me, palms facing her. Looking over the black ink covering the near-decade old scars on the back of my hands, I giggle, "I _never_ said anything about being _completely_ human."

Before anyone can respond, I slap my palms together, lacing my fingers together. Shouts of surprise fills the room as Caroline is hoisted off of her feet by an invisible force, her coven members following in line. Looking up at the ten coven members bound a few feet off of the ground, a humorless chuckle leaving my lips.

"What in the Goddess's name is this? You're no witch!" Caroline sneers, choking as my hands tighten their grip on each other.

"I take that as a compliment," I reply in mild amusement, "Now. I'm sure you remember my response to your last threat. I told you if you ever followed through with your threat I would string you up and send every single one of you to stand before the Gates of Hell."

"No one has the power to banish people to Hell, except for powerful demons."

Pulling my hands apart, satisfaction fills me as screams of agony pierces through the room, small cuts appearing on their bodies, "I assure you, Winters," I turn the back of my hands to face her, seeing her eyes widen, "I am no demon."

"T-That's impossible..."

"Nothing is impossible, Winters. You are right about one thing. I can't banish you into Hell," I turn my hand, palms facing each other and I press them together once more, watching them sigh in relief. "I do, however, have the power to guide the way."

"You're the Cros-"

Caroline's shout cuts off as I quickly pull my hands away from each other. The invisible wires stringing each of them up reacts accordingly. Limbs sever from bodies. Blood paints the walls and floors as the invisible wires cleaves through their bodies at different angles. I shudder inwardly at the sight as I stare at the fallen corpses, two solid thuds behind me signals the releasing of the power binding Dean and Sam to the walls.

"What the hell was that?!" Dean demands, "You said you aren't a witch."

"I'm not," I assure him, reaching into my pockets to fish out my gloves, "I am what you would call a-"

A sharp pain pierces through my head and I feel my knees buckle. My fingers dig into the concrete floor as the sudden pain travels through my body, and I bite down on my bottom lip as I fight back the urge to scream in agony. Looking up, the two Hunters appear blurry before me, darkness swirling at the edges of my vision.

"Are you al-"

The question cuts off as I let out a sickening cough, red painting the floor between my hands. Groaning at the sudden sense of vertigo attacking me, my mind darkens significantly before shutting down completely.

* * *

_Blue. Pain. Torment. Soul-less. Empty. Laughter. Hatred. A vendetta._

_Blue._

_Blue._

_Blue._

* * *

"Hey! Wake up!"

Shooting upright in the bed, I instinctively roll over and land in a crouch on the floor. Blinking away the shadows of my subconscious, I look up at the faces of Dean and Sam. Sighing in relief, I pull myself up to my feet and stretch out the tension along my muscles.

"Sorry," I muse, running my bare fingers through my mess of bangs, and I pause, raising my hand in front of my face, "Ugh...I feel naked."

"Want to explain why a Wiccan symbol is etched on the back of your hand?" Dean demands, "Or maybe why that witch almost refered to you being associated with the Crossroads?"

Finally clearing my vision, I realise the shortest of the two Hunters held a gun in his hand, not aimed at me, but it remained at the ready. Just in case, I assume. Sighing, I sit back on the crappy motel bed and look up at the ceiling for a brief moment.

"I'm human, mostly. I just happen to be gifted," I turn my gaze on the two men staring at me, "I had been completely normal, living in England, and attending school. When I was eighteen, almost nine years ago, I was kidnapped by a coven of witches, not so different than the one's we just encountered. They said I was the perfect object for sacrifice."

"What happened?" Sam asks gently.

"I died," Both of them tense, "I died that night and ended up somewhere between life and death. It was there that I met _her_."

"Her?"

"The Goddess who governs over the Crossroads," I ignore the widening of their eyes, "The Wiccans refer to her as their 'Mother Goddess'."

"And?" Dean continues after I pause, fishing for more information.

I look at them both, "And she was _pissed_."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Chapter title 'Tendencies' and Lyrics used to explain the use of it as the title is owned by Hollywood Undead (Seriously, an awesome group).

Please note, that the next chapter will most likely be longer due to the explanation of Lexi's abilities and her personal issues against Wiccan beliefs. Again, I have nothing against anyone who practices or follows the religion, or any religion for that matter. It just works in with the story, which will be explained in the next chapter.

Please leave a review. I _do_ take the time to respond to each reviewer. Let me know what you think so far and if you see something that isn't right, please let me know as I enjoy working to better my writing skills.

**Next Time:**

**Chapter Two- **_Backfire 'Throw my heart in the well of wishing, pay my toll just to move on, ask myself to please forgive me, all my innocence is gone'_


	2. Chapter 2: Backfire

**Successors of the Ancients**

**Summary:**

My name is Alexandria Caitlin Winslow. I am twenty-seven years old. I own an underground bar in Seattle, Washington. I've been told I'm stubborn, sarcastic and that I have a habit of pissing people off.

Of course, I'm not exactly normal. See, if I was normal, there wouldn't be a story to tell. If I was normal, I would never have become involved with the Winchester brothers. I wouldn't have thrown myself into Purgatory, of all places, to save a previously mis-guided angel. I wouldn't be a target, made out by some wack-job with a power trip. So, before reading, here are some key factors.

1.) I _hate_ witches. Absolutely loathe them.

2.) I can grant intended people a second chance at life.

3.) I died when I was eighteen years old.

4.) I am the Successor to the power of a Pagan Goddess.

Did I mention I hate witches?

**Author's Note:**

Since at the start of this story, there isn't really much information on what is happening to Cas in Purgatory, so I am using creative licencing to come up with my own plot and run with it. The beginning of this story shines a rather bad look on Wiccan beliefs, but that is not really my own opinion, as I believe everyone has their own right to believe in whatever the hell they wish. So, if any Wiccan believers become offended by my insults toward the 'Mother Goddess' please bear in mind that this is a fictional story and as such my original, fictional character kind of has a blunt, straight-forward take-no-nonsence attitude and has a mind of her own. If you are offended by this, I suggest you take whatever flaming response you are going to fling at me and shove it up your ass. You've had a fair warning. Hell, my original character insults _every_ religion. So, no offense to any believers. Don't like, don't read. Flames will receive a big 'Up Your's' and be ignored.

On another note, all of my information is based off of Roman and Greek Mythology, facts taken from Wiki (and my three years of studying Latin as a second language). So bear in mind, my facts are checked out and I've taken some...liberties of changing some things.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural. All of the chapter titles are also Song Titles or Lyrics, which disclaimers will be used at the end of each chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_Backfire  
'Throw my heart in the well of wishing,  
Pay my toll just to move on,  
Ask myself to please forgive me,  
All my innocence is gone'_

* * *

"What do you mean she was pissed?" Dean demands, looking as confused as I felt back then.

I glance at the ceiling, "When I died, I found myself standing at the center of the Crossroads in the afterlife..."

* * *

_Opening my eyes, I groan at the surrounding fog of grey. Looking down at my blood-stained and torn clothes, my scarred hands move along my body, inspecting for the injuries that had just been there. Feeling no cuts, no open wounds, a strange sense of confusion fills me as I look up. To my right, to my left and straight ahead, singular roads lay at my feet, their destinations unseen through the veil of grey._

_"Where the bloody hell am I?" I murmur, hating the utter confusion whirling my senses._

_"You stand before the Afterlife Crossroads," a raspy, melodic voice states behind me softly._

_Turning on point, I stumble back a few paces at the sight of the three women standing before me. As one stares at me with a calm, serene look, the two others gaze in opposing directions. They were beautiful, their visage symmetrical in every fashion. The one before me takes a step forward, the others following in suit in their opposing directions._

_"I'm dead," I state pointedly, accepting the thought rather easily._

_The woman before me smiles at my words, "Yes, and at the same time, no."_

_"Who are you?" I ask, tilting my head slightly._

_"I am the one, to which you were sacrificed to."_

_My calm features shudders at the disturbing idea, "You are their so-called 'Mother Goddess'?"_

_Her soft, gleaming eyes flash dangerously, the unbridled fury swirling around her very person, "I have never accepted human sacrifices. My name is Hecate. I came to be during the age of the Greek civilization. I am the Matron of Magic, and the Goddess of the Dark Moon. I act as a guide for lost souls, show them their path along the Crossroads. The idea that humans are twisting and distorting the very magic I blessed man-kind with is disturbing and is insulting to my very being."_

_I bow my head respectfully toward the ancient Goddess, "Humans do tend to twist ideals to fit their own benefits."_

_The woman's anger fades and a soft laughter pierces the thickened air, "You are quite an odd human. The humans that refer to me as the 'Mother Goddess' often try to gain my favor and bring a lost one back from the dead."_

_"Is that even possible?" I question, my mind flicking to a zombie apocalypse._

_"For me? Of course. I have granted some humans a second chance at life, when they have proved themselves worthy of such," the Goddess, Hecate, says warmly. "You, you are a special human."_

_"I've been called many things, but special isn't one of them," I retort, earning another giggle, "Is my 'special-ness' the reason you are speaking to me?"_

_The powerful being before me nods curtly, "The blood that runs through your veins, the blood of your ancestors, has been blessed since the day you were born. You, Alexandria Caitlin Winslow, are the Successor to my power."_

_Shock runs through my mind, my eyes widening in response, "Me? I'm nothing special."_

_"You are. Every first born daughter throughout your maternal ancestors, have carried the trait to become my Successor. You will have access to all of my knowledge and my abilities. You will carry the magic I granted humans and be able to use them in the manner that they were meant to be used. You will have the ability to grant those worthy a second chance at life. You can help people, more than any other," Hecate states matter-of-factually._

_I blink, shocked in every manner, "Say I agree to accept such power. How will I know if someone is worthy of a second chance?"_

_"That is for you to decide. It has been far too long since I have walked among the humans. Ideals of what makes a person worthy have changed throughout the ages," Hecate replies, motioning toward the three roads, "Of course, with every power, there is a payment that must be made. Every power granted to the Successors has its downsides."_

_"How so?"_

_"In order to bring a human soul back to the Mortal Realm and bind it to the human's body, a year off of your total life-span must be given in exchange. I suggest you use it only when you believe it to be a right decision," Hecate explains, her softened gaze growing stern, "Though, there is one rule that cannot be broken. There is a time limit. A single day, between the moment the human body dies and the soul turns to its rest. Once the soul passes through one of the three gates, the human soul cannot be returned. To do so, would be breaking the founding laws of life and death itself. Binding a soul back to its human body may only occur once, for anymore bindings would shatter the soul."_

_I swallow, looking down at my feet, "Why me? Why now?"_

_Hecate smiles warmly, "You, Alexandria, are chosen because it is meant to be this way. In the upcoming years, more Successors will awaken with their powers. Some will seek to do good for humanity, while others will find the power to be too much and become hungry for more. Every Successor is still human after their powers awaken, but even humans can be tempted by it."_

_"Some will see themselves as Gods, when really they are just a little more than human," I summarize._

_Hecate giggles gently, a hand resting on my shoulder, "And you must wonder why I chose you? You are unlike any of the others. I am not well-known by your race, your historians have often left me out, and I kept it that way for reasons. I may not be known by many, but I shared in ruling over the Earth, the Sea and the Heavens. Zeus, himself, granted me this gift, as he once stated being able to walk between life and death is a power he respects. I have granted warriors prizes of honor and virtue. I protected Sons, as Artemis protected Daughters. Many will believe my powers are too much, and it is for that very reason I remained hidden behind the visage of the Olympians."_

_I look down briefly before meeting her gaze, "So...I will be able to help people?" Seeing her nod, "And all that will be needed is a year for each human soul?" Another nod is the response I receive, "Exactly how long is my life-span?"_

_"That, I cannot say. You are the first to ever receive my power," Hecate reasons._

_Musing over the idea for a moment, I give the Goddess a small smile, "I accept. I want nothing more than to make sure no one, no families, suffer the way I have."_

_Hecate's palm presses against my forehead and my eyes slide shut as a surge of warmth flows through my body and molds within the very core of my being, "I have given you a small gesture of gratitude. You will receive it upon your awakening."_

* * *

"...When I woke up, the entire coven of witches were dead. Ever since then, I have saved those intended to be saved by destiny, and those I have deemed worthy of a second chance."

The silence that follows is thick and I stretch my arms over my head once more. Sam seems to be rather skeptical, while Dean's face shows a sense of confliction. Standing up from the bed, I groan as I hold my head, the room spinning slightly at the sudden change in elevation.

"So, the witches that attacked your bar? How exactly did you kill them?" Dean asks suddenly.

"I told you. I've received threatening letters for the past year and a half. They were offended by me using the symbol of their 'Mother Goddess'. When the threats grew more volatile, I located their coven home and I chose to sneak in and set up an...insurance policy. I set up wires, of sorts, created out of my own energy and unable to be seen by anyone other than myself," I answer, shaking my head clear of the dizziness.

"You really were going to head there, with or without us," Sam states, causing me to nod in response, "Why did you ask to come with us, if you already had it handled?"

A bemused smile stretches on my lips, "You aren't the first Hunters I've come across. I don't know how many times I've been shot at because of my abilities. I figured, you two were going to catch onto the coven and if you witnessed me using magic to execute them, then I would be on the receiving end of your gun barrel."

The smirk on Dean's lips proves my theory correct, and the shortest of the two men chuckles briefly before becoming serious once more, "So, there are more of you?"

Nodding, I accept the glass of water from Sam, giving him a thankful smile, "Yes. I only know of three that have already awakened. It is only a matter of time before one of them awakens and Hecate's prediction comes true."

"What happened to you after you ganked the witches?" Dean asks, Sam nodding in agreement to his brother's curiosity, "You just started coughing up blood and passed out."

I groan, running a hand over my face, "I receive...visions of the people that are destined to be brought back. Usually, it only happens when I am sleeping, as I use most of my concentration to keep the visions at bay during the time I am awake. After I..._ganked_ the witches, my concentration broke and the vision came forward suddenly."

"How does you having premonitions explain the coughing up blood part?" Sam questions curiously, offering me a seat at the small, round table.

I giggle slightly, sipping the water slowly, before clearing my throat, "They aren't premonitions. The visions show me what is happening to the person at the very moment. The destined ones are so far and few between that I do not receive them often. This particular vision has been plaguing me for a long time now and I am starting to gain _physical_ remnants to his pain."

"You don't know who this guy is?" Sam inquires worriedly.

Shaking my head, I stare at the markings on the back of my hands, "No. The vision is a jumbled mess of incoherent, incomprehensible pictures. I feel as though I am connected to this man on a spiritual level, as I have never had this much difficulty in locating an intended target." I trail off as I come to a realization, "Oh my Goddess. Why didn't I think of it before?"

"Think of what?" the two brothers question in unison.

"The _Oracle_," I reply, looking up into their blank faces, "One of my fellow awakened can probably help me."

"An oracle? You mean like a psychic?" Dean supplies, trying to piece together my thought pattern.

Shaking my head, I stand up from the chair, "No. Not a psychic. Not just _any_ oracle. I'm talking about _the_ Oracle."

As I move through the motel room, I miss the shared look between the two brothers. Pulling on my duster jacket and winding my scarf around my neck, I pull the hood over my head and fish out my leather gloves. Slipping them on, I sigh the exposed feeling fades as I fall back into my visage of going ignored through the streets and crowds of people.

"If you need a ride, we can take you there," Sam suggests, and I pause at the door, looking back the two.

Dean nods curtly, "If what you say is true, and a Successor is going to get a power trip, we need to know who we can trust when the time comes."

"Alright," I nod in agreement, realizing these Hunters are not like others I have met, "but we need to make a pit stop before we head out."

* * *

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE GOING TO SEE ORACLE?!"

I wince at the piercing, loud voice, Melody's beautiful brown eyes contorting with her frustration, "He's my only option. This vision needs to stop and he can help me figure out who the intended mark is."

Melody growls as she slams the door behind Sam, shoving her way pass the three of us as she leads us to the living room, "I leave you alone, for four hours, and what happens? You recklessly chase after those witches. You get caught up with a couple of Hunters. Have you forgotten about the last one that managed to clip you. You nearly bled to death on my couch! Now you're telling me you need to go see Oracle?"

"There's nothing wrong with Oracle," I argue, trying to get the frantic red-head to calm down.

"Nothing wrong? _Nothing wrong?_ Did you forget what happened last time?"

I giggle, realizing what she is freaking out about, "Seriously, Mel? So, Oracle is a bit handsy and has a habit of flirting with people. Mel, these visions _have_ to stop. I can't have my concentration halved because I'm trying to hold them back on a daily basis."

Melody lets out a huff of a sigh, "Fine." Dean and Sam sigh in relief, but I know for a fact this is too easy, "I'm going with you."

"We can't have an innocent human caught in the middle of this," Sam argues instantly.

Melody whirls her angry gaze on him, "I don't give a flying fuck what _you_ want! I am not going to let my _best friend_ travel with a couple of Hunters that could potentially leave her for dead on the side of the road. I am not going to let her see Oracle by herself. Either I go with you, or I will follow you every step of the way."

"Are all of you women this stubborn?" Dean questions in annoyance.

The beautiful red-head glares heatedly at him, "If I were you, I'd shut up. Any idea where the Oracle is hiding out at this time?"

"French Quarter last time I heard," I reply.

The two Hunters stare blankly at me before sharing a look, "You mean where's going to New Orleans?"

"Mardi Gras, baby," I tease playfully.

A leering grin stretches across Dean's lips and he throws an arm over my shoulders, "You might be a bit of a freak, but I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine."

I giggle, not at all offended by the label. Within the hour, Melody and I find ourselves in the back seat of the Impala as it speeds past the city limits of Seattle. Hearing a classic rock song playing, I lean over the seats in front of me and turn up the volume.

_'If you're havin' trouble with the high school head_  
_He's givin' you the blues_  
_You wanna graduate but not in his bed_  
_Here's what you gotta do_  
_Pick up the phone, I'm always home_  
_Call me any time_  
_Just ring 36 24 36 hey_  
_I lead a life of crime'_

__Catching Dean's grin in the rear view mirror as I begin harmonizing with the vocals, his own voice matching mine, I can't help but return the smile. Ignoring the irritation building in Sam and Melody, Dean and I seem to be competing with who can get the others to crack first.

I have a feeling this road trip is going to be quite amusing.

* * *

**Chapter Title: 'Backfire' is by the awesome band Egypt Central. I've loved those guys since their first album came out and I find their music to be seriously inspiring. Lyrics used in the story is 'Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheep' by AC/DC.**

**Winterfellsfallenangel: Aww...thanks dearest. I am so glad you are enjoying it, despite it being in First Person. I usually don't write it this way, but it seems to be flowing in that way.**

**To the followers/favorites of this story (I usually refer to followers as minions, so if you ever see me refer to 'minions' it's you silent readers): Thanks for your support. I hope at some point you take time to leave a review and let me know what you think about the story so far.**

**On another Note: This chapter hold important information for the next few chapters. Castiel won't be making an appearance until Chapter Four.**

**Leave a review!**


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